Fool's Paradise
by The Elo
Summary: The Flocks gone, leaving only Max behind. What she didn't expect was to be approached by an old man asking her to join his group to defeat a certain Dark Lord. What she soon realises is that nothing is what it seems. And maybe - just maybe she can find out the real reason for the Flock's demise.
1. Prologue

Scouring for food, relentlessly, in the filthy alley's of New York. Maximum Ride knows she knows many things.

Like silver trash cans can actually hold a meals worth if you spend enough time searching.

And you can't trust anybody.

Especially old men with long, white beards, and weird pointy hats that just magically appear in front of you. Definitely untrustworthy.

"Good afternoon." The man in question said, bowing, his beard practically touching the floor. "You are Maximum Ride?"

It took a lot of effort to overcome her stunned expression. But, eventually her most trusted weapon returned to her. Her voice.

"Who wants to know?" she said, folding her arms.

"Professor Dumbledore." The old man said, bowing. "I am headmaster of the school Hogwarts. I've heard word of you and your Flock's…_eccentric_ abilities."

The Flock…God, she missed them.

"Then it's a most definitely no." Max said. "School and me, never seems to work properly."

The old man smiled. "I can assure you that this is no ordinary school."

"What?" Max scoffed. "An school for mutants? I suppose one of the teachers is called Professor Xavier? No way, old man."

"You are quite right." Dumbledore said, still smiling. "What if I told you this is school for… _magic_."

"Magic doesn't exist, full stop."

"Ah, but wouldn't most people say you don't exist?"

"That's science. Not something from the dark ages."

"Then I shall have to prove it." Dumbledore said.

Something small and pointy, resembling a stick appeared in his hand. He waved it in front of him. Nothing happened.

Then Max was on fire, and yet as she panicked, not once did she feel the flames burn her.

Then the fire went out. Leaving Max stunned, looking down at her not-burnt hands and legs.

"Was that sufficient enough proof?" Dumbledore said. "If you come with me you'll find yourself in safety from the scientists, and Erasers you run from. You also we be able to learn magic."

"The catch?" There was always a catch.

"I want you to join us." Dumbledore said. "Become a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"To fight what?"

"A man called Voldemort."

"Give me one reason why I should."

"Because it won't just be our world that will fall." He said, his eyes becoming sorrow ridden.

"It will be yours world as well."

* * *

**Very short prologue, you could say. Just introducing the main story line here.**

**So I found this while having a look around at my various files, completely forgotten, so I ****decided to post it.  
**


	2. New World

Apparition isn't very nice. It can make you very nauseous.

Dumbledore was so very kind to tell Max after he did the deed. Lucky, Max is used to turbulence. It comes with the wings.

Without a word, Dumbledore handed Max a piece of parchment.

She looked down. _12 Grimaldall place_, shone back at her. She looked up at the neighbourhood they were at.

The houses were tightly packed, identical much different to the houses in America. Even the gardens were small, the road much slimmer. Max wondered how cars actually made it through, without hitting another. Another key feature was the lack of a number 12. Actually, it didn't seem to exist.

"This must be a mistake?" Max said to Dumbledore.

"I can assure you it is not."

There was a noise, like the grinding of bricks to brick, and Max could only looked gobsmack as another house appeared between 11 and 13.

Number 12 Grimawald Place.

"I love magic." Max said, it wasn't very long ago, she wouldn't have even thought of such a thing.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You are not the first, my dear. Now, as far as the others are considered they think I'm bringing a top Auror from America."

"Not a fifteen year old girl."

"Exactly." Dumbledore said. "But I'm sure you will do brilliant. I have much faith."

"And where did you get these sources?"

"Ah, that's for me to know." He stepped forward, to the doorway, before ringing the doorbell. "Also, you have the liberty of choosing whether or not to reveal your history."

"Got it." Max said, with a nod.

At that moment the door opened, revealing a plumb red haired woman.

"Albus!" she said, with a smile. "We weren't expecting you until later?"

"It seemed it went better than I thought." Dumbledore said. He stepped aside, Max becoming in full view. "Max I would like you to meet Molly Weasley. She's part of the Order. Molly, this is Maximum Ride, our new ally from America."

"Hi." Max said. Witty comments didn't seem to be the right words at the moment.

Molly eyes become the size of saucers. "She looks no older than fifteen!" then her expression changed to an angry growl, as she realised the implications. Max knew that face, she had used it one too many times on Iggy and Gazzy. "Albus! What were you thinking bringing a child into this? At least she's safe in America!"

"Molly, I can assure you that she is perfect for the job. She will be a great asset to bringing down Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore said.

Molly flinched at his name, which made Max frown. Molly must of known her argument wouldn't change the old man's mind, for she hustled them in, and yet gave the impression the discussion wasn't over.

"I'll just tell the others you're here." She said, leading the way. "Dinner should be ready soon." She disappeared through a door.

Dumbledore didn't follow.

Max didn't find the house happy. It seemed to have a more dark and sorrowful feel. Lacking certain elements that would make a house a welcome to be in. Like brighter colours for the walls, instead grey.

"Molly Weasley is a very motherly woman." Dumbledore said. "Being a mother of seven, you would have to be. Please forgive her for being so."

Max didn't express the strangeness of his words, instead asking a question.

"Why did she flinch at Lord Voldemort?"

"Fear of the name, is fear of the thing itself. Remember, Max, fear can make people do…drastic actions…"

"You don't have to tell me." Max said, visions of the Flock coming to mind. "I've had first hand experience."

Even right now, months after it happened, the guilt still threatened to take over.

"I know." Dumbledore said, solemnly. "But, always, remember all the times they made you smile."

Max looked up at the man, and could see the same guilt reflected in his.

"Who was it?" she asked, quietly.

"My sister. I was…foolish and young." Dumbledore said, gravely. "You are a much better person, then I ever was."

Max could tell he never spoke often of her.

"Does it still hurt? Even after all these years?"

"Yes." Dumbledore said, and then switched the conversation. "I think we should head in now, we shouldn't keep them waiting."

He strides into the room, Max following.

"Dumbledore!" Someone calls. It was a man with, black, unruly hair. His face looked slightly thin and hollow, and yet he gave off a cheerful façade. He reminded her off Iggy and Gazzy, the pranksters they were.

"Molly, seems pretty upset with you," the man carried on, a smile on his lips. "It is the new recruit? Whose that girl you got with you?

"Sirius," Molly said, rather angrily, "Would you please sit down? Dinner is about to be served."

Dumbledore only smiled. "This new girl is Maximum Ride." He said. "The new recruit, as you put it Sirius."

Silence fell, as they all took in Max's rugged appearance.

"She looks like you just took her of the street?" A woman with purple hair said.

Ah, the irony.

"Max is well suited to the job." Dumbledore said. "She may not be what you expect, but she has more raw courage than the majority of you."

"A bit of an overstatement." Max said, feeling she should but in, and make sure people did know _who_ they were dealing with.

"And, too modest for her own good." Dumbledore carried on. "Have a seat Max." he waved his hand to an empty chair, between two people about her age.

She did, looking hungrily at the food in front of her. It looked delicious. She watched as people started to dig into this massive meal. That was her cue, to do the same. Instantly her plate started to fill with food.

"So it's Maximum, isn't it?" the busy haired girl, beside her said.

"Just Max." Max corrected, putting roast potato into her mouth. _Heaven._

"From America?" the busy haired girl carried. "What's it like ther-are you even going to use a knife and fork?"

Oops, she forgot about those.

"Uh, yeah." Max answered, quickly putting the instruments into her hands.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "How much are you planning to eat?"

_Everything_, was the answer in Max's head, instead she opted for, "A lot?"

"That certainly is _a lot_."

Maybe she should have been subtler, with how much food she needed to eat.

"You are from the streets aren't you?" a red haired boy said, across from the girl. Food splattered from his mouth.

"Ron, close your mouth." The girl said, rather irritably. "Why would she be from the streets? Professor Lupin is dressed similar and yet we both know he's not from the streets."

"Yeah, because we know him and he has his condition. We don't her, do we?" Ron said.

"Ronald, stop harassing the poor girl." Molly said from across the table, it occurred to Max that she probably had been watching the whole exchange. "She got enough on her plate as it is. Metaphorically of course."

"Why did Dumbledore choose you to join the Order?"

Max swivelled her head round to the boy with round glasses, messy black hair, and green eyes. He had a similar sort of frown to the girl.

"I mean, why choose you, when he knows we want to join the Order as well?" the boy said. Then suddenly realising his words sounded mean, he said. "Okay that's not what I meant."

"I gathered that." Max said, before stuffing her face with pork. _Delicious. _"I think the reason isn't how much, is how much you can withstand. You're too young."

"We're the same age." He said. "How are you not too young?"

"That's for me to know, and you to not, capisce?" Max said. She really didn't want to spill all her secrets at all, and so was trying to walk around the subject. But, she could tell the boy could be persistent. "What's you name by the way?"

He gave her a confused look. "You mean you don't know who I am?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I did, would I?" Max rolled her eyes. Idiot.

"Um, it's Harry, Harry Potter." Harry said, then looked expectantly at Max, as if waiting for something.

"You lot?" Max turned her head to the busy haired girl and Ron, ignoring Harry's even more confused look.

"Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley."

Conversation didn't really take hold anymore. Even though, Max could see Harry trying to hold his tongue.

Max also managed to be a bit more subtle when eating.

* * *

When dinner was finished, Molly made it her duty to wound-up everybody who wasn't of legal age and push them all out the door, before closing the door and locking it, much to their displeasure.

This was now strictly Order business.

A few more people arrived, ones who couldn't make dinner. Apparently their names were Kinsley Shaklebolt, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall and Serverus Snape.

She didn't like Snape. His nose wasn't the right shape.

"Max," a red haired man said, who Max had come to know as Arthur Weasley, husband to Molly Weasley, "how are you taking everything so far?"

"Fine." She said. It was perfectly true, though the fact the dishes were washing themselves was becoming a bit distracting. Max felt like gravity had decided to take a holiday.

"You can always choose to leave." Arthur prompted. "You don't have to be here."

It hit Max that the only reason he was saying this was because Molly had asked him to do it. Asking in the sense he probably received a deathly glare. Max knew all about these glares, she could make a pretty scary one when the time arises.

"I'm perfectly okay with it." _It's better than living on the streets._ She silently thought.

"Dumbledore tell us the reason you would let someone this young join." Remus said. He wasn't any happier than Molly, but Max could tell he looked up to Dumbledore.

Actually, they all did to a certain extent.

Maybe not Snape, their was something fishy about him.

Dumbledore smiled, an acquired a gleam to eyes. "Max is a spy."

"A spy?" Kinsley said. "A spy for us?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "a spy."

Max felt like putting her hand up and telling everyone that this wasn't the case. She was just here to help.

Drat. This is helping.

"What she go up her sleeve, then?" Moody growled. "I know you Albus, there must be something special about her."

Dumbledore smiled. "Nothing that needs mentioning."

_In other words its classified information_, Max thought.

Yet, the stares once again returned to her, all trying to decipher what it could be.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to trust my judgement." Dumbledore said, reading everyone's thoughts. "Miss Ride is what we need to fight this war."

If Molly Weasley had feathers she would be ruffling them right now.

"Give me one _good_ reason why she can join." Molly said.

"Simple," Dumbledore said, "Max has experience in, ah, certain situations."

"What experiences?" Molly's eyes narrowed.

"Stuff blowing up." Max said. "Knowing how to survive…you get the picture."

She rocked back on her chair, her hands behind her head, acting casual. Max knew how to play false.

Molly only eyed her, not completely trusting.

"Show us then." Sirius said. "Show us, what you can do. Get your wand out."

It occurred to Max she didn't own a wand. Lucky, for her, Dumbledore stepped in.

"Max doesn't own any wand." He said, then turned to Molly. "I was wondering if you would take her with the others to acquire their school equipment."

Max glared at Dumbledore, even though she was going to school, it didn't mean she liked it.

"She's a _muggle!"_ Molly said, her eyes wide.

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, she isn't. She just had the misfortune to never to have gone to school. Well, a school for magic that is.

"Now Max," Dumbledore said, turning to her, "I think you should properly introduce yourself to the other children. I'm sure they have many questions of their own."

"If it's alright with you, Dumbledore," Max said, just because she had agreed to come and help, doesn't mean she would actually do everything he says. She was Maximum Ride, ultimately known for defining authority. "I'm just gonna head upstairs and not do that."

"You'll be up against pestering in the morning," Dumbledore warned, as Max got up and headed out the door.

"Nah, I think I can hold my own." She said, before closing the door on them.

She needed some room to herself, and so set out to find one.

* * *

It was lucky Max was fit, or she probably never made it up the stairs. It seemed to go on in a winding pattern, heading, just up.

The creepy heads of something that looked like a dog with humanoid features, with enormously large eyes and ears in jars lining the staircase, wasn't helping. Max could only help a shiver, as the things stared at her, wide-eyed and terrified. She did feel sorry for them. They reminded her of experiments, gone wrong.

"My Mistress would be so ashamed to have such filth…wondering in her home, brought on by her own son…Ashamed she would."

The voice perked Max's attention, stopping her on her climb. It sounded depressed, something with a rather large hatred for the world in general.

She carefully crept to a door, where the voice was coming from. She opened the door, to find something that resembled the dog things in the jars.

Of course this one had a body. Arms, legs, it could be human if it wasn't for the rather bulbous head. A filthy pillowcase covered it. It stared at her with eyes that now were slits.

"Now they bring another half-breed into my Mistress's home," it continued, glaring at her. "Oh! How my Mistress would weep at such filth…"

Max had a huge urge to kick the thing, mainly, through the wall.

Instead, she glared. "Half-breed? Some sort of wizard thing?"

"It is not only a half-breed, but a foreigner. My Mistress would dearly be upheld for such disgrace!"

"If you're trying to flatter me," Max said, "it's not working."

"Flatter you?" it said. "Kreacher would never do such a thing to disappoint his Mistress. Though he could see the traitor doing so…"

Max had no idea who the traitor was, but she knew insults a mile away, and this thing was all but doing it.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't have your butt kicked to next Tuesday." Max growled menacingly.

Kreacher only looked up at her, with eyes that spelled hatred with capital letters.

"My Mistre-"

"If you say my Mistress one more time." Max said, now having her hand around the creature's neck, making the thing's eyes bulge. "I'll make sure you never speak a word again. And I don't believe anybody will miss it…Understood?"

The thing gave a nod, fear glinting in it's eyes.

Max dropped it to the floor, only for it to scamper out of the room, leaving clouds of dust behind.

Max didn't have any pity for that thing. It was insulting her.

* * *

**I'm not going to update for awhile. The only reason I updated this was because I had actually written this months ago. I have two stories that I want finished before I start another one. It was a small pact I made with myself, and frankly I have been dying to upload another story, but since I wrote this ages go I was like...well...It'll bring down that ****urge.**

**Hopefully you enjoy this story. Feel free to check out my other ones.**


	3. Dreams and Monsters

"Stop!" Max screamed, running, blood and grime covering her. "Fang, stop!"

Fang turned round. His dark eyes, haunted, his black hair dripping down his face, with blood that wasn't his own. He looked so lost.

"Stop?" he said. "What for?"

"Please…" Max said her voice wavering. Not Fang. Strong, her right-hand man, someone she could trust with everything - not Fang.

"Why?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because its not right." She said. "It'll never be right..."

Not Fang.

"But, why?" He looked in front of him, where the cliff edge dropped off into an abyss. A never ending abyss. He seemed mesmerised by it.

She knew he was going to do it. She couldn't let him.

"Because we're what's left." She said, edging forward, her arm outstretched, ready do grab his hand. "What's left of the Flock…"

"There is no Flock." Fang said, his voice steady and calm as always, but the wrong kind. "There never was."

And he fell.

Not Fang. Not Fang. Not Fang.

_Not Fang!_

* * *

Max awoke.

Sweat dripped off her chin, her breathing heavy, she gripped the bed tightly. She closed her eyes, wishing for the nightmare to go away.

God, she wished that worked.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her hands covering her face.

She knew there was no point trying to get to sleep; she would just repeat what happened.

Repeat the nightmare.

Molly Weasley had been the one to seek out Max, especially when a scared house elf had been seen fleeing the stairs. She had found her lounging about in one of the many rooms. Max was then directed to what would be her bedroom. She was glad it was well away from everybody else's.

It was just as dark and gloomy as the rest. A single bed, drawer, and a mirror reflecting everything in the room, she could look into it, and see if anybody was coming through the door, without turning her head. It gave her privacy at least.

Max wondered outside of her room, walking down the stairs. She was surprised to hear voices coming from the kitchen. She didn't think some one else would be up this early in the morning. So she entered, finding the kitchen making itself breakfast.

Maybe not for itself, but it was most definitely making breakfast.

Never had Max see such a thing. She could only stare, watching pans and pots fly across the room, ingredients flinging themselves into them- the fire bursting from underneath another pan, where it only fling bacon up and come back flipped to the other side-Max's love for magic only increased.

Voices from the dining room brought her back to reality. They weren't loud, but she could tell an argument was happening.

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly Weasley's voice said, sternly. "You do not say such things about guests!"

"But," Ron rebuked, "she just appeared from halfway across the world! It isn't even her war!"

Max knew that. One of the reasons why she had refused Dumbledore's requested at first.

"As if she doesn't know that!" Molly said, repeating her thoughts. "You three better not go barging at that girl, demanding answers, Merlin knows how Dumbledore managed to get her to even join. Or why, for that matter!"

Deciding that the argument didn't need to become even more heated, Max entered the room.

The four occupants in the room jumped in surprise at the sound of the door opening, turning to face her.

"Max, dear." Molly said, regaining first, coming over to her- an overbearing mother. "Sorry, did we wake you up?"

"No." Max said.

Molly suddenly took in her appearance. "Haven't you changed?"

Max looked down at the clothes she had been wearing for three days straight. By now, normal washing machines were beyond them. "No."

Hermione seemed to take this event from another angle. "Have you got any clothes? Apart from what you're wearing?"

Max felt like lying, but she knew this one couldn't be lied about. "No."

Molly's mouth fell open. "Didn't Dumbledore allow you to bring anything with you?

Max blinked. "I didn't have anything with me to bring."

"You mean you're actually from the streets?" Ron said.

Max eyed Ron carefully. "No. I wasn't born there. I just happen to walk on them to get from place to place, you know?"

"You're being sarcastic." Harry said, he was narrowing his eyes at her; his glasses slightly askew.

"I definitely wasn't born there." Max said. She really wasn't in the mood for an argument.

Kreacher, with astonishing timing, entered the room. He carefully sneered at each occupant, before his eyes became as wide as sources at the sight of Max. He turned round, and without a glance, sped into the other room. Confused faces watched his progress.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron said, voicing everybody's thoughts.

"Discipline." Max said.

"You tormented him?" Hermione said, eyes wide.

"Did I even mention torment?" Max said, annoyed. "No. I don't think the word came out my mouth."

Molly was glaring slightly at Max. "An attitude like that will not get you what you want."

"I know." Max said. "But it is a great distraction." Molly's face suddenly looked ready to pop.

"Maximum I see you're already causing trouble."

Jumping in surprise, they all turned to see a smiling Dumbledore.

"Albus." Molly said, sternly. "Why are you letting her join?"

"I believe we've already discussed this." Dumbledore said, tightly, walking into the room towards Max.

"That was not an answer!" Molly said. "You can't expect us to trust someone we hardly know!"

"I don't expect you too." Dumbledore said, his calm dilemma never faulting. "I only expect you to be kind to Max, and to be welcoming."

Molly huffed briskly. "When she has no manners?"

Dumbledore turned to Max. And she felt his stare, as he looked over his half-moon spectacles- a parent about to scold a child.

"I know you have problems, but please don't take them out on others." He said, calmly, before turning to the others. "Now if you will excuse us, I would like to speak to Max alone."

* * *

"Mrs Weasley is wrong, Max." Dumbledore said, the others gone now. Leaving them both in the living room. He was sitting; she was standing staring out the window, watching people walk by, never noticing the extra house. "This is as much your war as it is ours."

"Because if he wins, he want just stop at Britain." Max said, sourly. "Yeah, right. That really isn't a good enough reason."

"So why are you here?" Dumbledore said, prompted. "Why did you accept?"

Max didn't reply, Dumbledore only pushing his words.

"Because you know that magic could be the answer to why the Flock fell apart."

"And this is when you tell me I'm wrong." Max huffed. "I've heard speeches like this millions of times before, old man. I have had enough people tell me I'm delusional."

"No." he said. "You are right."

Max turned round sharply. "What?"

"It was magic Max, that caused the Flock to fall." Dumbledore said. "Maybe not magic itself, but the person who cast it."

"How, then? Tell me how." Max demanded, her body growing tense. She needed answers.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I do not know precisely, but I know it was."

"Prove to me." Max said. "Prove what you say."

"How did they die, Max?"

Everything seemed to stop inside Max. She could see it. Their faces as they slowly faded away…

"They didn't," she said, "not really."

"Why would you say that Max? When their bodies were found?"

"I don't know…I just know they didn't."

How could she explain such a thing, when she didn't fully understand it herself? It was a feeling. A gut feeling that told her something was off, something wasn't right.

"I know what you are thinking," Dumbledore said. "And I'm afraid I don't have the answers. But, if you stay with us - the Order -you may find the answers."

He raised from his position and walked to the door. "I'll let you think on it."

And Max was left alone.

She was always alone in the end.

* * *

Lord Voldemort looked upon his followers. They surrounded him like his was the most prized jewel, each held their own fear and respect to him. They were people he considered family.

If he had any understanding of the concept.

Ever since Snape had come back from the latest Order meeting he gave news that made Voldemort worry. An emotion that he knew would make him falter and pause. And so, he sent out his own followers to claim his own precious secret weapon. Just like Dumbledore had.

Snape hadn't been able to specify anything the silly old, fool keeping the secret to himself. No one knew about what this new member could do.

His fellow Death Eaters had radiated fear as Snape made his announcement. Voldemort knew he had to redirect this fear, making it vanish from their minds. He needed them to be prepared.

And so he had devised a plan.

So he sent out two Death Eaters to acquire a special toy. They had come back-those two Death Eaters- came back with exactly what he needed.

Only if he knew what he had thrust upon himself, then maybe, he would never have chosen this path.

"I gather you here today," he addressed the waiting audience of Death Eaters each one perfectly still soliders ready at his command, "to mark the occasion of a new ally to our mists. An ally that will help us defeat Dumbledore himself."

A satisfied smirk filtered onto Voldemort's face, as whispers and mummers broke across the dingy hall. He let them. He wanted them too.

"Now," his voice instantly halting the whispers, "I present our own secret…"

The doors opened. A bulky figure appeared in the doorway. The first impression one gets is of a werewolf. Yet there was something more inhumane with white pointed teeth, muscles that stretched and relaxed, claws that clipped together- almost sparking. And eyes -eyes that spoke of dravaties and hunger. Hunger for only one thing…

It's shadow loomed, making the nearest Death Eaters back away from the door. They were scared- scared of this monstrosity.

And Voldemort spoke the last word.

_"Ari."_

* * *

Diagon Alley wasn't how Max expected it.

Actually, she had never known what to expect. Magic was like that; it surprised you.

The buildings didn't look right. They looked crooked, and squashed together, and yet Max had a funny feeling the inside would look stable. It was crowded, full of people with pointy hats, carrying cauldrons, books, children holding parents hands. Max could feel the claustrophobia taking it's hold.

Dam cages.

"Now, Max," Molly said, and Max could hear the slight venom of her words. She obliviously hadn't gotten over their small argument. Well, small to Max that is. "You can get your wand at Ollivanders." She waved her hand at a particular squashed shop. "We will be in Madame Malkins, seeing as Ron has outgrown his robes and I'm sure Harry and Hermione would like to buy new ones."

In an instant Max was by herself, staring at the shop. But she didn't care; she wanted to be alone for this. It seemed right.

Taking a deep breath she stepped inside.

It was neat, and yet managed to be covered in dust. All Max had to do was swipe a finger on a particular shelf, and find it blackened.

She also had a need to sneeze.

"Ah!" A voice said from the depths of bookshelves, behind the counter. "What can I do for you?"

Max could only move forward towards the counter, peeking round the shelves, trying to get a glimpse of the person.

"A wand." She said. "Isn't that what people came to this shop for?"

A head appeared round one corner, making Max jump.

"American?" He said. "Also older than eleven."

Max just nodded. "Maximum Ride, if you're asking."

It was an old man: white hair, shivraled figure, a man with wide eyes, a curious glint shining in them as he made his way towards her. Max presumed this was Ollivander.

"Interesting…interesting." He murmured to himself. He inspected her, taking in every ounce of her appearance.

Max didn't like being scrutinized. It made her remember all those times those scientists had been testing her. The way they looked at her, studied her, forgetting that an actually human being was in front of them. It made her sick.

"Which is your wand arm?" Ollivander asked, interrupting Max's thoughts.

"Er…my right arm?"

"Hold it out." He instructed.

Max did so, and ended up with a tape measure. Measuring it, then the rest of her body.

Why the hell would you need to do that?

The whole time, Ollivander searched the shelves. Occasionally he would pick up one, only to grumble and put it back.

And Max thought she was off the rocker.

Eventually he came back a pile of boxes, opening one and handing it to Max. Max feeling stupid holding a stick in one hand.

"Go on then." Ollivander said, as Max failed to make any movement. "Give it a wave."

She did.

Something rather large and heavy flew through the window, littering glass everywhere, before trying to take out Ollivander's head.

Max bent down to help pick up the man, after carefully putting the wand down on the counter.

"Not to worry." He said, rather cheerfully, waving her hands away. "Worse has happened."

He gave her another wand, only to snatch it away, mumbling.

The next wand decided that setting fire to the carpet was an excellent idea.

The one after that put the fire out, only to blast a hole in the wall in the process.

That wasn't at all confusing.

One tried to poke Max in the eye. Making her to believe her theory that they have minds of her own. The way Ollivander talked about them as people, only added more evidence.

After several more disastrous wands, and hours later, Ollivander asked a peculiar question.

"You are, by any chance, Miss Ride, a non-human? Or at least part?" he inquired.

Max was startled by his words. "What do you mean?" she said, slowly.

"Well," Ollivander said, "I've fitted several wands to werewolves, and half-veelas. And they are always the most trickiest to find wands for."

"You're point?"

"Well, the reason why, is most of the time they can only have particular wands. Like most Werewolves only have a certain type of wood."

"So if I was one, you would have to find a particular wand?" Max said.

"Yes, and my dear, I can tell you I won't discriminate. It is my duty to make sure every wizard, or witch has a wand. As far as I am concerned to be one, you have to perform magic."

Max came to a conclusion. "Okay," she said, "I'm 2% bird."

Ollivander raised an eyebrow. "Most peculiar…"

"Yes." Max agreed, quickly moving the conversation on, she would rather not dwell deep into her past. "Now would you know which wand would be mine?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Ride." Ollivander said, making his why back to the shelves, going through the boxes. "You cannot just own a wand. It has to choose you."

"Oh, great." Max said. "So pretty much all the ones I've been trying out are racist."

"That is another view to look at it from, yes." He said, absentmindly.

Max didn't know whether to be insulted.

"Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I believe I have found the wand for you!"

He excitedly came over, handing the wand over to Max.

Instantly Max felt something with this wand: a warm feeling that spread from the tips with her fingers. She waved it, and nothing happened.

"Yes!" Ollivander said. "It was the one! Phoenix feather with Cedar, slightly springy, and 12 inches exactly." He stared at the wand mesmerised.

"And that is important…why?" Max asked, she felt something needed to be elaborated on.

"Cedar," Ollivander said, "usually means the owner is not someone to be crossed, especially when those they care about are in the danger."

"And you thought I would suit this wand…how?" Max said.

"You seemed to have that sort of heart." He smiled. "The sarcastic attitude you perceive is only a mask, not revealing your true personality."

"So, how much?" Max said, rather not wanting a deep meaningful conversation on her life.

"Six gallons." He answered.

Max gave a sigh. This was one thing that Max didn't like about the Wizarding world: their form of currency. It did not make any sense to her, at all.

* * *

**Hello marvellous readers of this story!  
Thank you for all those who favourited, followed and reviewed it does mean a lot to me.**

**Yes I did give in and write the next chapter. But that should be a good thing. :)**

**Just so you know we are dealing with a Max who's lost the Flock. So, if she seems a bit...more rough around the edges then she normally does then that's the reason. **

**Expect a long wait for the next chapter I am trying to update this other story.**


	4. Guilt

Max stared aimlessly up at the ceiling, twiddling the wand she got a week ago in her hands. Rocking back and forth on the chair at the kitchen table. She still had yet to try any proper spells. Hermione had been quick to point out that wizards and witches, under the age of seventeen, weren't allowed to do magic outside school.

The girl could be a right sufferable know-it-all at sometimes. Max had already come to the conclusion not to say, or do, anything out of the ordinary- for wizards that is- in front of her in fear the girl's very perceptive eyes would pick up and work out what it actually meant.

Luckily nobody else was that perceptive.

One thing she had learned living with these people, was that they all didn't like her very much. She could hear their whispered conversations (Raptor hearing always did help in eves-dropping), and she spent many a time pretending to be oblivious while they talked. Right now, she could hear them in the next room, talking rather animatedly.

"Hermione," came the exasperated words of Harry Potter, "I really don't think we can trust her."

"Dumbledore does." Hermione pointed out. She always seemed to be on the optimistic side of the argument.

"Dumbledore trusts Snape." Harry pointed out, "and he's even worse!"

"Mate," Ron said, "like Lupin said; we should trust Dumbledore's choices, he knows what he's doing."

"Everybody can make mistakes," Harry said. "He even told me himself."

Mistakes. Max knew about mistakes. How one slip could lead to more than just one simple_-_

She shook her head trying to clear her mind of the guilt building up inside her. It wasn't good to dwell on bad thoughts.

"Ah, there you are Maximum."

Max's head swivelled round to face the smiling face of Dumbledore, standing in the doorway. She found it annoying he was the only one to pronounce her full name. Everybody else resorted to Max, in fear of being locked into a cupboard for a couple of hours with doxies.

"What do you want, Dumblies?" Max had yet to give everyone irritating nicknames. She only did it to pass the time.

Dumbledore just smiled again, before joining Max at the table. Max continued to rock on her chair.

"Professor Snape has agreed to take lessons with you, " he said.

At least there was still some good news to come through. Max was excited at the prospect of learning magic- hell, it was every kid's dream.

"When?" she asked.

"Tomorrow, Sirius has kindly lent a particular large bedroom for your lessons." The smile on Dumbledore's face made Max snort.

"It's his parent's room isn't it?" It wasn't a secret how much Sirius hated his dearly departed parents. Max would've hated them too. The portrait screaming in the hallway every other day was exact proof of the family issues.

Dumbledore gave a slight chuckle. "I believe it is."

"Anything else I should know about?" Max asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No."

"Right, then," Max said, jumping up, "I'm gonna head over and see what Mr Wolf is up to." She headed for the door, leaving a smiling Dumbledore behind.

The old man seemed to find amusement in everything.

But, she could not help but notice he was lying to her. There was something else she should know about.

* * *

Max liked Remus Lupin. She wasn't sure why they seemed to click so well, maybe his quiet, calculating personality balance her own sarcastic one, or maybe because he became a monster once a month; and Max understood there was a monster inside all of us.

It had been a surprise to find out he was a werewolf. Max only knew of Erasers, and found herself surprised to accept his condition so well. But, those thoughts of surprise were diminished. A werewolf was a beast once a month, and not by choice. An Eraser could flip from being a beast to being an ordinary man, without a thought. If tuning into hot models counted as ordinary.

"Hey Mr Wolf." Max said leaning on the doorway, before heading to the lounge. He looked up, a cup of tea in his hands. He smiled.

"Ah, Max, up to no good already?" he said, his eyes were dancing with mischief. She had already learned from Sirius about their Marauders days. He had joked good-naturedly at dinner, until Molly had apprehended him and sent him washing the dishes, saying, "They do not need _encouragement!"_ Max believed it was more directed at the twins than anybody else.

"Nah, too early in the morning." She plopped down onto the couch opposite, laying her head back against the top. You could always gain a confortable silence with Remus.

Remus gave a hearty laugh at her comment. "How is the cleaning going?" he asked.

Max made a face. Most days were spent moving, dusting, and spraying as the Black Manor had been left in the care of a deranged house elf gaining instructions from an even more insane portrait. It had lead to an infestation of doxies, and dust that didn't just clog your nose, but cover you from head to toe if you spent too much time in it's company.

"Don't remind me," Max said, "I don't even know why we bother, it's a lost cause anyway."

"I have to agree with you on that one, just don't pass that message onto Molly."

They laughed, but not enough for Max to miss the curious look in Remus's eyes. She knew he did not mean to be rude, and tried to cover it up most of the time, but it was getting quite old right now. But, she had to remind herself, it was better than being scrutinised or glared at. Some of the members of the Order weren't as accepting as others. The rest opted for curious glances whenever she walked into a room, each trying to decipher why Dumbledore recruited her. Her wings always ended up being pressed tighter against her back at these glances.

"Sorry," Remus said, noticing he had been caught. "It's rather rude of me."

Max, even with her annoyance, waved it off. "No matter, you're not the only one."

She then leaned forward conspiringly towards Remus, "but, between you and me taking in my absolutely exquisite body won't help trying to gain my heart."

Remus laughed. Max knew listening to Gazzy and Iggy hadn't been a waste of time. Iggy and Gazzy…her heart suddenly gave way.

"How are you enjoying England so far?" Remus asked, quickly changing the subject at Max's change in demeanour.

"Cold." was Max's answer.

They talked until Remus had to leave.

* * *

Max looked down at the dirty cloth she had been scrubbing against the petrifying floor, joined by Ron, Hermione and Harry with their own mangled cloths and buckets filled with sloshing brown water. Molly had called upon another bout of cleaning shortly after Remus had left. Max hated it, and she wasn't the only one. Ron was suddenly making Nudge's rants look minuscule compared to how he just went on and on and on about how much he hated cleaning. Eventually his mother had smacked him into sense, leaving him grumbling instead, but at least not out loud for the world to hear.

Silence took over the four hard workers, before Harry broke the silence.

"Who are you, really?" he spoke angrily, and Max knew it was directed at her.

She didn't turn around and instead ignored him, while she heard a warning _"Harry!"_ from Hermione. The floor lost a few more dark spots.

Harry ignored Hermione. "You must have some how tricked Dumbledore, how else would he have let you in?"

Max snorted and she suddenly found herself answering back, "your jealously speaks much about you."

"Jealously?" Harry said, the anger taking on more of an edge. The other occupants of the room had suddenly stopped their own scrubbing.

It occurred to Max that Harry had been harbouring this question for the past few days now, probably since her arrival. For someone that was spoken so highly of for his acceptance of others; he was easily succumbing to jealously. She wondered why.

"Yes," Max said, "jealously. You're jealous because I'm in the Order, but maybe it is because of your childish attitude they won't let you in the Order. Did you think about that?"

"You don't know what I've faced." Harry said, grittily.

"No I don't." Max spat back. "And you don't know what I have either, so we seem to be in the same boat here."

"Then tell us?" Hermione said, "then, we can understand." There were small murmurs of agreement in the room.

Max cracked. Recently she had become more susceptible to people's words, and with all the whispers behind her backs, the glances in her direction, it was all she needed to topple over the edge.

"My past is my own." Max hissed, now turning to face Hermione. "I do not need a snotty _know-it-all_ pestering me to tell the world about it. Has it occurred to you that maybe- I don't want people to know?"

"Don't call Hermione that." Harry said, standing looking down on Max. Max wanted to thump the floor with her fist. _Didn't _he just hear what she said?

In her own anger she stood up several inches taller than him, her hands becoming fists. "_Are you thick headed?_ I don't want people to know. I just want you all to go away and leave me alone!"

"Then why did you join?" Hermione said, she too standing, followed by Ron. "If you hate everybody so much, then why are you here?"

Max saw wands slither into hands, but pointing down. The tension in the air was almost suffocating.

"Why would I tell you?" she almost screamed at the blithering idiots before her. "You are not my friends. You have no business in my reasons. They are between me and Dumbledore!"

Harry's mouth opened in retort-

But it never came.

Instead an ear splitting scream filled the air, followed by wails and sobs that shook the house.

All thoughts of the previous argument left Max. She watched the colour drain from the others, they knew who the shouts belonged too.

Molly Weasley.

In less than a second Max was sprinting past the shocked faces and climbing the stairs to the sound of sobs.

She rounded to a door, and flung it wide open. The room she entered was the same as all the other rooms in the Manor. Blackened, dusty- in need of much cleaning.

There hadn't been a body, drenched in blood, leaning against one of the walls looking exactly like Arthur Weasley. No, there hadn't.

Molly was crouched in a corner her tears and sobs uncontrollable. Her eyes were glued to the body, wide and red. Her hands shook, her wand grasped tightly pointing at the offending body. But, she made no move to cast any spell.

_Crack!_

The body changed, in a blink of an eye, into the broken and crumbled body of Ginny Weasley. Her red hair was dull, and spread around her body, like a flower's petals.

_Crack!_

Ron's body replaced Ginny's.

_Crack!_

Bill's-

_Crack!_

Fred's-

_Crack!_

George's-

_Crack!_

Another red-haired young man Max didn't recognise-

_Crack!_

Harry's-

_Crack!_

Hermione's-

Max couldn't stand it. She stepped in between Molly and the ever-changing body, and she watched it change again, echoing with another _crack!_ into something much more horrible.

Her face was thin and unsmiling, her blonde hair, and blue eyes dull. Her once pure white wings now hung loosely, splattered with red. She wore a white sheet that only just made it past her thighs…it wasn't possible; she was dead.

"Max?" Angel said, looking up at her, emotion gone from her face, "where were you Max? Where were you when we needed you?"

Max had become frozen. She couldn't move, only listen to the not-Angel's words.

"How come you weren't there?" she said, "Nudge cried, you know? She cried and shouted your name before they killed her, slowly and painfully. Then they killed Gazzy, then they killed Iggy…They made us _watch…_" Emotions swirled across her features- _hurt and betrayal._

"How could you leave us? Leave us to them? You promised Max. You promised we would stick together…_forever…as the Flock…"_

"I-I…" Max's words became lodged inside her throat, and yet she still managed to hold back the tears. "I didn't…I couldn't…I…"

_"Lies!"_

The velocity of Angel's words hit Max's heart, piercing it. She felt like it had stopped and would never beat again.

"_Lies_, you also had a choice." She said, her eyes wise and red. "You _chose_ not to come, you _chose _to leave us! Your own family!"

_Crack! _She suddenly changed to the weeping form of Nudge in pool of blood. She reached out, with a bloodied hand- reached out to Max. "Max…" she whimpered. "Max…"

_Crack!_

Gazzy appeared, screaming, withering on the ground, his eyes wide and open full of terror.

_Crack!_

"You failed your destiny, Max." Jeb Blatchelder said, in his gleaming white coat and looking down upon Max with disappointment. "Failed to be a leader- to _lead the Flock_- to save the world. Now, because of you, it will be torn into to pieces. Pieces that cannot be put back together."

Suddenly Max was pushed to the side, while another _crack!_ echoed, becoming a silverly moon.

_"Riddikulus!"_ the voice of Remus Lupin said. Instantly the moon became a balloon that burst and whizzed around them, before being thrust into a closet.

She found herself against the wall, her breathing heavy and ragged. The tears now streaking down her cheeks. She could feel their stares on her, judging her, showing sympathy.

"Max…" Hermione said quietly. Max realised she was kneeling beside her, her eyes shining with her own tears. "We didn't…so…sorry…"

"GO AWAY!" Max's voice broke into a threatening shout. It rang across the room, echoing, into every room of the manor. She pushed Hermione away, standing up and striding out the door and up the stairs to her own room.

The door locked behind her.

Not one person came to find her.

* * *

**It's probably gonna be another long wait for the next chapter, stuffs happening, mainly school stuff related.**

**For those of you who are hardcore Harry Potter fans then yes I have twisted the original story line for my own purposes. So, really expect only some parts to stay the same.**


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